The Things Unsaid
by queen-sheep
Summary: [AU] On March 1, 1980, there's an anomaly born into the Wizarding World. It's unheard of, unseen before. Because for the first time in recorded history, there's a baby who can't speak- and his name is Ronald Bilius Weasley.
1. Chapter 1

_I know I really shouldn't be starting another story, especially a multi chapter one, but I just couldn't resist! Hopefully, I won't lose interest like I tend to with my other multi chapters. If there are any errors, or any criticism you can give, just let me know. _

* * *

The day is just beginning, sun streaking across the sky and staining the clouds in brilliant shades of pink and orange and red, when the letter arrives. It's delivered right into the twisting house, placed on top of the pile of other mail, and there it sits patiently as the occupants of the house rise and stumble down the stairs in uneven steps and yawns.

In the kitchen, breakfast is being served and the noise is building up surely and steadily. As the rest of the family packs inside, space becomes a limited resource, and shouting is the only way to be heard. There are brief tussles happening all around the room, and eventually someone is shoved out of the kitchen to get the mail.

The boy, rather tall for his age, scowls and drags his feet to the pile where the owl deposited the mail. He grabs the whole pile, letting out a silent sigh when a couple tumble to the ground. He bends down, shoving them into his arms, until finally, he reaches the last one.

The instance he sees the crest, his heart seizes, and his breath stops short. Fingers trembling, he brushes his hand over rough paper, and then quickly flips it over.

He moves his hand across the green ink centered exactly in the middle on the envelope, mouthing the words to himself, wanting to feel the shape of them.

There's no mistake.

'Mr. R. Weasley

The Attic

Ottery St. Catchpole

Devon'

His letter from Hogwarts is finally here.

Ron picks up the letter gingerly, cradling it tightly in his hands and he retreats back into the kitchen. The trembling has spread down his hands, to his arms and his body, and he's not sure if it's from fear or excitement, or a mix of the two. Whatever it is, he doesn't care, because no one expected him to get the letter.

But it's here, and all he knows is that he, a mute, a cripple, a freak, is being given the chance to go to Hogwarts, and he isn't going to give it up for the world.

Dumping the other mail on some spare counter space, he tucks the letter in his pocket for further inspection later.

-X-

It's after breakfast, and Ron hovers at the edge of the kitchen door nervously. Taking a single deep breath, he steps in, and his mum turns at the sound of footsteps.

"Hello dear," she smiles at him. "Did you need something?"

He draws the letter out of his pocket, slightly worn already from the many times he opened and closed it. She takes the letter from him, and glances over it once, before turning to check the name.

There's no mistake. It's his name, his right. He knows, having checked it over and over again in the past couple hours, just to make sure it's not a dream, or some far off fantasy.

Finally, his mum folds the letter back to its original position, then gives him a _look_. He recognizes that look. Ron can tell he's about to get a long winded speech, and his dread increased when she shouts for his dad to get in the kitchen. But he sets his face determinedly. This is the one thing he absolutely won't back down on.

There's a faint clanging sound and a shout, before his dad absently peers into the kitchen. Ron watches as he observes the scene, the two of them sitting stiffly on the chairs, facing each other.

Hesitantly, he takes the seat next to his mum, and Ron watches as she passes him the Hogwarts letter. His dad takes it, glancing at it briefly before placing it on the table, and then Molly starts talking.

"Ronald," she starts.

Uh oh, he thinks, dread pooling in his stomach. She's used his full name already.

"You won't be attending Hogwarts."

And that's that. Her tone is final, her stare firm and unyielding. Ron tenses, curls into himself, arms clenched tight on his lap, and the red creeps up his neck, his ears. He slowly, arms trembling, reaches into his pocket and takes out his notebook and pen.

They're both muggle things, because ink would spill all over his pants and parchment doesn't bend right and is thick and scratchy and too big.

But before he can use them, his dad speaks up, slow and hesitant.

"Molly, dear," he says, watching her. "Maybe we should talk about this."

She whirls on him, eyes spitting fire, and Ron takes it as his cue to leave. He grabs his stuff, stuffing it back where it belongs, and then scrambles out of there. He's half way up the stairs when he hears his mum's raised voice lower to sobs.

I'll run away to Hogwarts on my own, he thinks to himself, pushing down that little ball of guilt that sits in his stomach. I'll do it. I really will.

He enters his room, loudly, as if to make up for his lack of noise. If he listens closely, he can hear explosions sounding right below him in the twin's room, and he knows Percy is probably in his room studying or something. He could go down, join his siblings in their rooms, or in the garden, but he doesn't feel like seeing them today.

Instead, he settles against the bed, and grabs his pen again, idly tapping it up and down. He's waiting.

The day stretches out, like those in summer tend to, and nothing is resolved.


	2. Chapter 2

_I was planning on writing this like, two days after I posted the first chapter. As you can probably tell, that didn't happen. (I happen to be a very strong procrastinator.) So, here's the next chapter! If it seems rushed, I'm terribly sorry. I'm leaving for the next two weeks on vacation, and I wanted to get it out before then. I wanted it to be longer too, and add in some back story.. but that didn't happen either. Next chapter then!_

* * *

He sleeps fitfully that night. Under his eyelids dance visions of castles and ghosts and magic surging through him, strong and powerful. He dreams of all that, and he dreams that it's wrenched away from him, leaving him with a harrowing sense of loss. He wakes up periodically, shivering violently despite the summer air.

At one point, he thinks he can feel a hand running soothingly through his sweat soaked hair, and murmuring in the background, but he's already slipping back into the dream world to make sure.

Ron wakes the next morning, and blearily eyes the warm sunlight filling his room. It's unbearably hot inside, and he can already feel sweat collecting at his temples and under his clothes. He estimates it's around noon, then stumbles out of bed.

Grabbing the clothes hanging over his chair, he quickly gets dressed. Ron pads softly to the door, cautiously poking a head out, before taking a step into the hallway. It's quiet. His breath hitches slightly in nervousness. It's never this quiet in the Weasley household, unless something major's happened.

And the only thing that happened lately was getting his Hogwarts letter.

A grimace makes its home on his face. He figures his siblings must have, some way or another, found out about it. Letting out an inaudible sigh, he heads to the bathroom, moving slowly so as to prolong any interaction with the rest of his family. He brushes his teeth slowly, sluggishly. He didn't get quite enough sleep last night.

When he can't prolong his activities anymore, he makes his way down the stairs, making sure to step over that one step that creaks. He pads to the kitchen, which is empty, to his relief.

He snatches up a plate of cold eggs, bacon, and toast, presumably left on the counter for him. He stuffs it in his mouth, grimacing at its temperature, before dumping it in the sink and heading back upstairs.

The silence pervades the house.

Feeling unsettled, Ron returns to his room, and shuts the door firmly behind him. He walks over to his drawer, pulling out a battered box. Carefully, very carefully, he takes out the old chessboard, and its accompanying pieces. Ron runs his fingers gently over them, and they stir at his touch.

Just as he begins to set it up, there's an unmistakeable knock at the front door. Ron pauses in his actions, waiting, but no one goes to answer. He frowns at that, then gets to his feet.

When he opens the door, the last thing he expects to see is Albus Dumbledore standing on his doorstop, looking completely out of the ordinary. The man gives him a pleasant smile, eyes twinkling happily, and says, "Hello Ronald. Quite a nice home you've got here."

It's all he can do to keep his jaw shut. He regains his bearings as best as he can, and stumbles back, opening the door wider. An invitation.

Dumbledore nods, and steps inside. He heads briskly to the living room, leaving Ron to hurriedly close the door and scramble after him. He pulls out his notebook and pen, quickly jotting down 'Please wait here' and flashing it at Dumbledore, before going to find his parents.

It doesn't take very long. He first goes to the shed, where, as expected, his dad is tinkering away. With an insistent tug on his shirt, he leads his dad back inside the house, to where Dumbledore is sitting patiently.

"Dumbledore," his dad greets the wizard in surprise. The headmaster stands up and gives the two of them a benign smile.

"Are you here for Ron?" Ron's dad asks, glancing down at him.

"That would be correct," Dumbledore affirms.

"I'll go get Molly," his dad says. "Please, have a seat."

He goes off, and then Ron is left fidgeting in the presence of the headmaster. His fingers twitch briefly towards his notebook again, but he stops it just in time. Although he sorely wants to ask him about why he let him into Hogwarts, he doesn't know if it'll be appropriate. So he sits, and kicks his legs against the armchair, waiting for his parents to get back.

A clatter in the kitchen alerts him to their presence, and he can hear faint murmuring inside. Moments later, they come out, and his mum has biscuits and tea in hand. She sets in down on the coffee table, and then sits on the couch beside his dad, wringing her hands nervously.

Dumbledore helps himself to a cup, and after taking a sip, begins.

"I believe you realize that we need special measures for young Ronald to come to Hogwarts."

His mum tenses, looking like she's about to argue, but his dad places a hand on her shoulder, stopping whatever she was going to say. They exchange a glance, and she visibly deflates.

The silence discussion doesn't go unnoticed by either Ron or Dumbledore, and, after a brief pause, he keeps talking.

"Classes such as Potions and Astronomy will be fine as long as we provide Ronald with some sort of chalkboard. This lets him to answer questions in class."

Here, he pauses, and Ron leans forward.

"Of course," Dumbledore says. "There will always be verbal spells."

"He can't _talk_!" His mum bursts in at this. "How do you expect him to do verbal spells? He can't!"

"It's not impossible," he says back calmly, unfazed. "Students begin to learn nonverbal spells in later years."

"He's a beginner," she snaps, shrugging the hand on her shoulder.

"Then all he needs is practice. There's no other method."

Silence falls on the room at this, and his mum still looks furious. His dad just looks tired and worn, while Dumbledore takes another sip of his tea.

He turns to Ron, who had just watched the exchange wide eyed.

"You'll be attending all you regular classes," he states. "In addition to that, you'll be practicing nonverbal spells every night after dinner with a professor. After that, it's up to you."

Ron just stares back, not entirely sure how to respond. Dumbledore continues.

"Your situation is a unique one. This is something you can't do this half-heartedly. Do you understand?" He asks gravely.

Ron nods back determinedly. He doesn't want to go back to the life he held before. A life where he was looked down on, and mocked, and pitied. He grabs his notebook and scribbles something down, flipping it over to show his parents.

_Does this mean I can go to Hogwarts?_

"Molly…" his dad says slowly. Dumbledore watches the two of them carefully.

Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her entire figure screams tension. Ron bites his lip anxiously, pleading with her with his eyes.

He wants this. No, he _needs _this.

And then, she sighs.

"Alright," she says, sounding world weary. Ron winces slightly at that, guilt sloshing up inside of him. He observes her for a moment, and notes how deep her wrinkles are becoming.

Dumbledore stands, his objective accomplished.

His parents stand as well, and lead him to the front door. There's no small talk between them, just a brief murmur of words that Ron doesn't catch. He doesn't follow. Instead, he remains on the armchair, still in a daze from the events that just occurred. It feels like a dream, and he's almost afraid to move lest he wake up.

But it isn't a dream. He's really going to Hogwarts.

A slow smile starts to form on his face, and he can feel a small balloon of excitement fill his chest.

He can't wait.

* * *

_Also, I apologize for Dumbledore. I seriously can't write him. Again, any concrit on feedback would be appreciated! _


End file.
